


Year One: The World Shall Be Made Anew

by RustedSilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, ButNotGood!Voldemort, F/M, Gen, James and Lily had twin sons, My First Fanfic, No Romance, Not Beta Read, Only because they're all 11 or 12, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Sane!Voldemort, There are now two prophecies, maybe some pre-romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RustedSilver/pseuds/RustedSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily and James Potter had twins. The ramifications of this were far greater than either Dumbledore or Voldemort could have foreseen. How does having a twin brother affect the War with Voldemort? How does Dumbledore change his plans? And what is the deal with Snape? Follows Harry and William Potter, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom as they all enter their first year at Hogwarts. Let the games begin. Spans seven books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: One Too Many Prophecies

**If** —

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can **keep your head** when all about you

Are losing theirs and **blaming it on you** ;

If you can **trust yourself** when all men doubt you,

But **make allowance** for their doubting too;

If you can **wait and not be tired by waiting** ,

Or, being lied about, **don't deal in lies** ,

Or, being hated, **don't give way to hating** ,

And yet **don't look too good** , **nor talk too wise** ;

 

If you can **dream** \--and not make dreams your master;

If you can **think** \--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can **meet with triumph and disaster**

And **treat those two impostors just the same** ;

If you can **bear to hear** the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or **watch the things you gave your life to** broken,

And **stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools** ;

 

If you can **make one heap of all your winnings**

And **risk it** on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And **lose** , and **start again** at your beginnings

And **never breathe a word about your loss** ;

If you can **force your heart and nerve and sinew**

To **serve your turn** long after they are gone,

And so **hold on** when there is nothing in you

Except the **Will** which says to them: "Hold on";

 

If you can **talk with crowds** and **keep your virtue** ,

Or **walk with kings** \-- **nor lose the common touch** ;

If **neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you** ;

If all men count with you, **but none too much** ;

If you can **fill the unforgiving minute**

With sixty seconds' **worth of distance run** \--

**Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,**

And--which is more-- **you'll be a Man** , my son!

 

    **Chapter One: One Too Many Prophecies** **  
**

_“Leaders aren't born they are made. And they are made just like anything else, through **hard work**. And that's the price we'll have to pay to achieve that goal, or any goal.”—Vince Lombardi_

__“_ A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that **moment** of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.”—Graham Greene _

_~*~_

**January 1, 1980, Hogs Head Inn, 8:26 P.M.**

Albus Dumbledore sighed, as he shifted in his chair once again, reading the day’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_. The statement: “times were very bad” was laughable. People were desolate, and Voldemort seemed to be swiftly crushing the Light. He had tried his best to warn the Minister in the early years, back when the words “Dark Lord” were mere _whispers_ in even the darkest alleys, but Nobby Leach had staunchly denied it, claiming it was only rumors and conspiracies. Now it was too late: with casualties at their highest and not stopping, fear more widespread than ever before, and Death Eaters being recruited left and right, it seemed that the war was truly lost. And he, instead of planning strategies with the Order, was here at Hogs Head, for a _teaching interview_. He wasn’t even here for a significant teaching position—no it was _Divination_.   

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in foretelling of the future, it was just bitterness about the war along with the weather—endless rain that didn’t seem to stop—that made this job interview worse than it seemed. The woman he was supposed to meet tonight was named Sybill Trelawney, a descendant of the well-known Cassadra Trelawney who had been a formidable Seer. Unfortunately, from what he could glean, Sybill was not as _gifted_ as Cassandra had been. Nor punctual, he mused to himself, sipping his tea. The pub was mostly empty, save for a trio of wizards in one back corner conversing quietly while keeping their heads down and especially avoiding looking at him, Aberforth who was cleaning a glass with a filthy rag and scowling to himself, and a wizard against a wall who had his head on the table and a glass of what looked like Firewhiskey right in front of him. 

He sighed, putting his glass down in front of him. Aberforth—his brother—shot him a glance before dismissing him and cleaning his glass again. Just as Albus was about to do _something_ to alleviate his growing boredom, the door to the inn fell open: a frazzled looking woman with huge spectacles rushing in, her boots making _squish squish squish_ noises. She attempted to tidy up herself, but giving it up for a lost cause, looked around the pub instead, and spotting him, came forward to sit on a nearby stool. 

“Headmaster Dumbledore, I apologize for my lateness, but I was caught in the middle of the storm. It was _awful_.”

“Ah hem, and you didn’t _forsee_ today’s weather.” 

She stiffened “Headmaster, the Inner Eye is not used to _predict weather_.” Ah, she had taken offense. Usually he would apologize or try to make amends, but his patience was already quite thin, what with waiting on this chair for nearly an hour. Still, he had to attend an Order meeting later on tonight, so it was best to get straight to business. 

“Yes, yes. Now then…You are applying for the post of Divination Professor at Hogwarts, m’dear?” 

“Oh yes, Headmaster.” He noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“And do you have any prior work experience?” 

“I worked as a consultant on _Witch Weekly’s_ , you know sir, to predict and guide in the matter of true love, but alas my Inner Eye showed me that I had to find a more suitable job.” 

“Your Inner Eye _showed_ you that it was best to leave your already well-paying job, so that you may _apply_ for a teaching position.” He couldn’t believe this woman. 

“Why yes, Headmaster.” Apparently Sybill had never heard of sarcasm before. The movement happened again, he frowned trying to look for who or what had caused it, without being too obvious. 

“I see…” Hah, a pun! “And you graduated from—?” 

“From Ava’s School of Foretelling. It is a specialized school of magic, sir.” 

“Yes, yes…and your O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts, do you have copies of your examination scores?” 

“Here.” 

“Ah yes, 2 O’s, 3 E’s, 1 A and a T on your N.E.W.Ts. O’s in: Astronomy and Divination, with E’s in: History of Magic, Herbology, and Muggle Studies, an A in Charms, and a T in Transfiguration. You did not take Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts, m’dear?” That was a depressingly inadequate quality of classes for someone who aspired to teach at Hogwarts. 

“Oh no, sir, the Defense professor was not at all well suited to teach, it would not have been worth it, and I am dreadful at Potions sir.” There again, it was man at that table, the one who had his head slumped on the table. 

“Yet you took Transfiguration?” 

“Yes, well, I believed it to be conductive towards my future.”

“Ah yes, is there any way I could persuade you to take a look at my future.” He had already made his decision, but it was still polite to ask, even if any “readings” would be made up or melodramatic. There, the man shifted again, his body facing Albus and Sybill. Most…curious. 

“Yes of course! Here let me find my crystal ball…Oh! There it is, now lets see…Oh, I see…a house-elf…named Dobby…he seems to be holding a sock! Most shocking…there is a child…oh how _curious_.” No it wasn’t very curious at all, he hadn’t even been in the so-called “foretelling.” She was a fraud, it was completely pointless to sit around with her knowing he wouldn’t hire her, so he would have to wrap this up. 

“M’dear, I am sorry to conclude this interview right now, but I have other engagements for later on tonight. I will carefully consider all that we have discussed and owl you with my response within 2 days.” 

“Oh…Alright Headmaster. I hope to hear from you in 2 days time, I suppose.” It was clear she was quite perplexed at the abrupt dismissal. The trio of wizards that had been talking to each other before, left the pub, paying Aberforth and keeping their faces hidden still. 

“Yes, well goodbye my dear.” And with that, Albus got up and turned towards the exit, seeing the man at that table raise his head, when he heard: 

 **_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…”_**

He turned back towards Sybill, gasping. What, was this a joke?! No, but she was sitting rigidly…almost as if in a trance…

 **_“Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”_**  

A prophecy…He was witnessing a real prophecy, but then a thought occurred to him, and he turned wand drawn, towards the man…the man who was staring wild-eyed, before he ran out of the pub, before Albus could do anything but cast several hexes that missed.

 **_“And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…”_**

He had to follow that man, yet he couldn’t leave now, he had to listen to the prophecy…

 **_“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._ ** **"**  

He waited for some more seconds, but after nothing more seemed to be said, and Sybill seemed to come back to herself, he said, “Wait here! I will be right back!” Then, he ran out of the pub, looking for the young man who had suspiciously left after overhearing the prophecy. 

**~*~**

**Back in the Hogs Head, 9:00 P.M.**  

Aberforth stared after his brother, who had just left his pub without paying. His jaw tightened, before he forcibly relaxed. Now was not the time to go running after Albus and whatever craziness he had gotten himself into this time. Instead, he turned to the messily dressed witch sitting on a stool looking miserably at the crystal ball. They were now the only ones in his inn, as no one else had entered after the woman. He brought up a clean glass, poured some amber liquid in it, and put it down beside her. 

“Here, Ogden’s Finest. First glass is on the house.” He said quite kindly, feeling pity at her gloomy expression 

“He ran out, there is no way I’m getting the job now,” she cried.  The light of a nearby candle cast a glow on the crystal ball in front of her, reflecting a colorful mirage that dazzled her. She became rigid. 

**_“The World shall be made anew:_ **

**_With an eagle’s cry, a deadly pursuit,_ **

**_A lion that roars nothing but truth,_ **

**_And the cold-hard respect of a snake._** ****

**_Of the night of Samhain we do not speak:_ **

**_The rat cowers, betraying bonds for greater loot._** ****

**_War echoes in Peace’s wake,_ **

**_While Victory flies on loyal shoulders._ **

**_Dark and Light rise and fall,_ **

**_But, in the end, Grey will conquer them all._** ****

**_His eyes will be the color of Death and Life:_ **

**_His very name a prophecy._** ****

**_They will fight, conquer, and rule,_ **

**_Follow in the footsteps of the Old:_ **

**_Life for Life, Blood for Blood,_ **

**_The World shall be made anew.”_**  

He gaped, not quite understanding. Two prophecies in one night…the first had foretold of the defeat of the current Dark Lord, while the second seemed to be hailing in another Wizarding Lord. The witch gasped coming back to herself. 

“Do you remember…Do you remember anything about what just happened?” He barely resisted shaking her. 

She looked at him as if he were mad: exactly how he felt. “N-No,” she whispered, her voice strained after the prophecy. But he could see something in her eyes…some lingering feeling perhaps… 

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” He roared madly. This was important, Wizarding Lords happened once every fifty to a hundred years yes, but ones that had prophecies foretelling of their coming were too important for her to keep quiet about, regardless of manners. 

She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out gently, before looking straight at him and speaking. ”I remember black hair…black as night, representing the Dark. I saw pale white skin…white as snow, representing the Light. And…I know…eyes green…green as the Killing Curse…green as Death. His name will be powerful in meaning, though common. That, that’s what I know.” Her voice had grown steely, and by the end of her statement she had almost been glaring at him. 

“So the question now is,” Aberforth began with a forced lightness, “What the _hell_ do we do?”

~*~ 

 **January 1, 1980, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, 9:30 P.M.**

It was pandemonium. The minute he had told the Order members of the prophecy, people had started talking. Twenty voices all began speaking at once, directing questions and demands to him over each other. His head throbbed. 

“SILENCE!” He did not shout. 

“Yes, there is a child who will be born, who has the power to defeat Voldemort.” 

Everyone flinched. Albus sighed, raising a hand to rub at his throbbing forehead. 

“Now who here is expecting a child…in late July?” 

“We are.” The Potters. They had thrice “defied” Voldemort. 

“And us.” Hmm…The Longbottoms had as well. 

“Everyone else may leave. I have to speak with the Potters and Longbottoms alone as this matter concerns them most of all.” 

The rest of the Order members all slowly got up and walked to the door, some of them glancing back at him curiously, but none of them questioned him. When the last person had walked through the exit, closing the door behind them, Albus turned to the two young couples still sitting at the table.   

“We will have to put you in safe houses. I fear Voldemort has already heard of the prophecy, and will come after you.” Albus sighed. 

“What, but—“ 

“You can hardly expect us to—“ 

“How are we going to keep fighting—“ 

“What about—“ 

“ENOUGH!” 

“You _will_ be kept safe. For how long, I do not know right now, but it is of great importance that Voldemort must not find you. If he finds you, you can be assured that you will not make it through the encounter alive—you can be assured that your unborn children will also die. I am doing this to keep you alive and _safe_.” 

“Fine, Albus.” 

“Yes, Albus.” 

“Now we will have to find enchantments and spells to keep you safely hidden…There is one particular spell—The Fidelius Charm—it can…”  

~*~

 **July 31, 1980, Godric’s Hollow, 11:55 P.M.**

“C’mon, c’mon…push, that’s it!” The Healer’s voice came through the door. James was pacing outside, his face tightened. Lily had been in labor for over 18 hours now, and he was sick with worry. _What if something goes wrong? What if the baby’s not okay? What if Lily’s not okay?_  

“James, breathe…Your panicking won’t help the situation.” Albus tried being the voice of reason, but felt like he wasn’t doing anything. 

Finally a cry resounded from the room, a baby’s cry. Albus checked the time, casting _“Tempus.”_   

 _ **July 31, 1980, 11:58 P.M.**_  

“It’s a boy,” said the Healer, but before anything else could be said, Lily screamed. 

“What—? Another one?” The Healer gasped. “Push! Again, almost there! You can do it!” 

“What’s going on?” James asked fearfully, staring at the closed door, tension coming back. 

“Stay calm.” 

“Lily?” 

“James, stay calm.” 

“LILY?” 

 _“Silencio!”_  

Another cry. _“Tempus.”_  

 **_August 1, 1980, 12:00 A.M._ **

“Another boy,” the Healer said proudly, opening the door. James rushed inside, and he followed, casting a swift _“Finite Incantatem,”_ at his back. 

He glanced down at the crib, where two babies slept soundly. One had red hair like Lily’s, while the other had black hair, much darker than James’. They were both curled into each other, looking deeply at peace. 

“Have you thought of names?” He asked lightly, glancing at Lily who was flushed and radiant with joy. 

“William Sirius Potter, for him,” she pointed at the red-haired one, “and—“ Lily floundered not knowing what to name her second child, as she had thought she would only be having one. 

“Harry James Potter for him,” James interrupted pointing at the black-haired baby. 

“Which one is the Potter Heir, the oldest?” Albus inquired, trying not to seem overly interested. 

“William is the oldest,” Lily said tiredly. 

“But I will not name a Potter Heir, until I feel that one of them has proven that he is capable of the responsibilities. I am not like some Wizarding Heads who refuse to name any child except their first-born male child as Heir to the Family Name,” James stated firmly. 

“Yes they are both equal, “ Lily smiled at her husband. 

~*~  

 **October 31, 1981, Godric’s Hollow, 7:00 P.M.**  

It was Halloween. Children were out trick-or-treating, laughing and chatting to each other excitedly. The old oak trees cast shadows over the streets, ominously hiding the glowing jack-o-lanterns from view. A cold wind blew harshly across the street, making the children shudder. It was like every other Halloween, maybe a little more colder than usual, but relatively the same. 

Then a faint pop sounded at the corner of the street. A dark-covered figure appeared in the shadows. He was wearing all black and no other distinguishing features were discernible. He moved slowly, yet confidently, staying within the shadows and avoiding any light. 

Finally, he stopped in front of a cottage, one slightly smaller than its neighbors, but empty of any children trick-or-treating on its doorstep. The house was completely dark, except for a faint light coming from what looked like the living room. The figure glided to the front door, his pale hands taking out a long, polished stick from his pocket, fingers curling around it and raising it to the keyhole of the door. It was a wand and this man was a wizard. 

 _“Alohomora…”_ The man whispered, his wand glowing slightly. 

The door snapped open, pushed aside. He walked in through the doorway, wand raised. 

The laughing man sitting on a worn out leather armchair immediately turned in his direction, wand out and eyes narrowed. He shouted, “Lily get the boys and leave. Hurry.” 

Lily who was standing near the staircase, raised her wand and cried, “No James, I will fight besides you. I am not leaving you here to fight _him_.” The last was directed at him. 

The intruder walked inside slowly, “Well isn’t this Gryffndorish behavior absolutely… _touching_.” He sneered, “Now which one of you should I fight first? Or will I duel the both of you?” 

James immediately fired a spell, which the man smoothly ducked. The intruder cast several spells quickly, which James dodged expertly. Lily, meanwhile, sent several curses towards the man. The intruder laughed, “You think you can defeat me, Lord Voldemort! Fools!” 

He made a slashing motion in the air with his wand, and Lily abruptly crumpled to the floor. 

“Lily!” The man looked at her for a split-second, before remembering the Dark Lord, turned and kept casting spells, furiously. 

His rage proved to be his undoing, for within the next minute, James too fell to the ground. 

The Dark Lord stood in front of them for a second contemplating on whether to kill them now, or after he sorted out the Prophecy brats. _Afterwards. It’s not as if they are a threat to me in their current condition. And I suppose, I should reward Severus for his information, so the woman can live. For now._  

Quickly now, the man took the stairs. He looked at the three closed doors in front of him, debating. Then, he walked across the hallway upstairs, until he reached a closed door. 

He opened it with his hand, the door creaking as he did. Inside, the walls were a deep red color, with little gold lions dancing across the walls. He sneered at the cliché wallpaper, before entering the room. Looking around, he saw two cribs standing side-by-side in the corner. The Dark Lord glanced down at the babies in their cribs. 

The one on the left had jet-black hair, and pale skin. The baby turned his head towards him and stared, green eyes glowing eerily in the room’s dim light. He raised one small hand up towards him, fingers reaching to grab, and then curling into a fist. The toddler was watching him in an almost unnerving manner. _He almost reminds me of—_ He cut that train of thought off. The baby might seem a little strange, but by the time he grows up, he’ll be as Gryffindorish as the rest of his family. _Or he would be, if he grows up. Which he won’t._ Just because he felt a _connection_ to the brat didn’t mean he would spare any loose ends. It had taken him the better part of a year to find the Potters and he would not let either child live, regardless of whom the Prophecy was speaking of. 

Turning, he looked at the other child. If the first child reminded him of _someone_ , this child seemed to look very much like a Weasley. His hair though, seemed to be more of a blood red color, as opposed to that disasterish red-orange Weasley hair color. This baby’s hair seemed to shine in the light, giving the child the illusion that his hair was a dancing flame. It was very…disconcerting. The child looked to be sleeping—no wait, it looked up at him just then. This brat had more…normal…brown eyes, along with already forming Potter features. The child looked very much like his father, just with his mother’s hair. _Except the Mudblood doesn’t have such vivid hair._ Then he frowned, turning to look at the other baby, the dark-haired one. He didn’t seem to resemble either one of his parents. _Perhaps, the Mudblood had an affair,_ he thought, his eyes narrowed, _except magical twins have to have the same biological parents_. He shook his head, his curioisity wanted him to wait and observe the twins, but his self-preservation wanted to do away with the threat immediately. He looked at the two children. They were both staring at him, the smaller, dark-haired one, almost analytically evaluating him, while the other red-haired child was smiling at him, a childish innocence in his face. He raised his wand, twirling it carefully in his fingers before saying casually, “Which one of you should I kill first? I suppose I _should_ do it by birth order, but I don’t exactly know which one of you was born first…” He shook his head “So there must be another method to determine whom to kill first.” The red-haired child, seeming to lose interest in him, tried reaching for his wand. There was a moment of silence, in which he evaluated the two babies laying before him. 

He smiled coldly then, “Ah yes, I believe it should be you…” 

And he cast: “ _Avada Kedavra!”_ And almost immediately he knew something would go wrong; the last thing he saw before being engulfed in flashing green light and all-consuming pain, was the green-eyed child, with eyes as green as the Killing Curse, laughing delightedly as though he saw a magic trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) According to Pottermore, Nobby Leach was the Minister of Magic at this time period.
> 
> Also, I believe that Dumbledore probably tried keeping track of Voldemort even after he left Hogwarts. Dumbledore most likely found out about some of the rumors of a “Dark Lord” (as evidenced in canon by how he knew about the name Voldemort during the DADA job interview), but as Grindelwald was defeated in 1945, the Ministry of Magic probably didn’t want to believe Dumbledore about another Dark Lord rising so soon (about 10 years later) after the defeat of who at that time was considered to be the worst Dark Lord ever (similar to how in canon, after Voldemort came back in Harry’s 4th year, Fudge and the Ministry didn’t want to believe that they had to deal with Voldemort again (after a little more than a decade) and so they attempted to discredit Dumbledore and Harry in hopes of convincing the public that everything was fine).
> 
> In this fic, Leach tried doing the same thing, by attempting to discredit Dumbledore as someone seeing Dark Lords everywhere and a fame and attention-seeking liar who wanted more glory than what he got from Grindelwald’s defeat. As Dumbledore didn’t have any unquestionable proof of Voldemort being a Dark Lord at that time (especially since Voldemort disappeared for many years after leaving his job at Borgin and Burkes), he couldn’t convince the Ministry to adequately prepare to fight against Voldemort, and thus when the First Wizarding War did break out, the Wizarding World was easily susceptible to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
> 
> (2) Its been stated in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore did not believe in Divination, and that he was strongly considering taking the class out of the curriculum all together, before he heard the Prophecy.
> 
> (3) I feel like Aberforth still holds resentment for Albus, and I wanted to explore how he would have reacted to the Prophecy instead of Albus, and what that may change for the characters. In canon, Dumbledore always holds all the cards. It gets to the point where he uses his own death as a strategy for the war. In this fic, I want to see how he reacts to many diferent uncertainties. Having two twin brothers, both born on separate days is one such “uncertainty.” The second Prophecy will be used to illustrate how Dumbledore will believe himself to hold the most knowledge on how to defeat Voldemort, not realizing that what he sees is only half the story, and the other half is with his brother Aberforth, and how this division of knowledge, and therefore power, will ultimately affect things.
> 
> I don’t particularly like the second prophecy I made; it feels too forced, but I’m tired of rewriting it, so this is it, unless I think of something better later on (unlikely). Yes this is going to be one of those cliché Twin-Who-Lived stories with a second prophecy and everything, but I really wanted to write my own version of this so..yeah! Don't like, don't read--otherwise, hope you liked it!


	2. Blood Matters

** Chapter Two: Blood Matters** **  
**

_“The first requisite of civilization is **justice**.” –Sigmund Freud_

_“The worst thing about [prejudice]... is that while you feel **hurt** and angry and all the rest of it, it feeds you self-doubt. You start thinking, perhaps I am not good enough.”—Nina Simone_

**11 Years Later**  

 _The Potter Family was getting ready for the trip to Kings Cross Station. Both of the boys were now 11 years old, and thus ready to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since waking, William and Harry had frequently given their parents excited looks as they prepared for the Portkey to Platform 9 ¾ to activate. The two brothers kept laughing in delight as they whispered conversations about the school they would soon be attending. Indeed, they were both the best of brothers, and though they fought, it was more out of a sibling rivalry and familial affection than out of any real resentment or true hatred._

_The Dark Lord Voldemort had been defeated nearly ten years previously and the Wizarding World had proclaimed William Sirius Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived. From that night, William was left with a lightning bot scar on his forehead, and with lingering Dark magic remnants on his person. This mark was reputedly the location of where Voldemort had pointed the Killing Curse. So, due to the faint Dark magic, as well as the lightning-bolt scar, the Wizarding World had decided on its Hero. But this didn’t mean that the Wizarding World had forgotten about the other brother, oh no. In fact, many people were_ very _curious to learn of the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived._

 _Harry, unlike his brother, had no such mark, and was declared to be completely untouched from the Dark magic. In fact, Harry had been so “pure” of the Dark magic that it had baffled both Ministry Aurors and St. Mungo’s Healers alike. Considering the rest of the nursery was also touched with faint traces of the Dark magical backlash, it was quite_ interesting _that Harry Potter had no such lingering magic on him. It was as if little Harry had not even been in the room during the event._

 _Both Lily and James Potter had also survived the Halloween Attack, as they had been found unconscious in their living room._

_The attack on their family, and later the immense publicity regarding the survival of the Potters, made the family rather secluded from the rest of the Wizarding World. Lord James Potter and Lady Lily Potter refused to let any reporters, politicians, or other similar people anywhere near their children, and had in fact only left the privacy of their Manor’s wards on a handful of times. Though most of the publicity centered around William, as he was, according to Albus Dumbledore, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the reason for the Dark Lord’s demise, many reporters and politicians were also curious of the other Potter twin. After all, magical twins were nearly always of equal power, and the fact that William was the Boy-Who-Lived, only made people wonder on what special powers Harry had as well._

_The twins, despite the fame, were raised in almost near isolation from the Wizarding World. They had attended an unknown (for safety reasons) Muggle school in London to learn how to do basic things such as reading, writing, and mathematics, as well as to learn how to make friends and build relations with teachers, without any of the Wizarding World fame having an affect on their childhood or personality. When they turned nine years old, the Potter parents took them out of school (as by then rumors were circulating on the Potter twins attending a Muggle school) and hired various pre-Hogwarts tutors that educated the boys in subjects such as Magical Theory, History of Magic, and Wizarding Customs. The Potters astonished many people in the Wizarding World by giving their children both a Muggle education as well as what was considered a typical Pureblood child’s education. Typically children of mixed Wizarding heritage attended a small Wizarding class within a village, where they were taught in a kind of classroom setting. Other times, if the parents of the child were very highly educated, they would teach their children as much as they were able to. The Muggleborns were the ones who attended Muggle schools before entering Hogwarts (for magical children had no need of going to school in a world they would never step foot in) and the wealthy Purebloods, along with the occasional Half-blood, were the ones who received expensive, highly sought after magical tutors who privately taught one-on-one, and were sworn to secrecy regarding each student._

_Ultimately, this meant that today would be the first time the Wizarding World would see their Heroic Potter Family in public, as William and Harry Potter were now eleven years old, and thus of Hogwarts age. Finally, the Wizarding World would be able to observe and *ahem* gossip about their favorite heroes. Everything would be noticed: from what Houses each twin would be sorted in, to how they performed in classes. Everything would be carefully noted, and remembered._  

“Remember: family comes first.” 

“Yes Mum, we know.” Harry sighed grumpily, as they had been doing this for over two hours now. 

“Don’t forget: stay close together. Even if you both do not end up in the same house, which you probably wont considering your individual personalities, do not let _anyone_ tear you two apart. You are brothers, but even more importantly, you are magical twins. It doesn’t matter who the Wizarding World ends up worshiping as their Savior, you both will act as proper members of the Potter Family. And. You. Will. Not. Tear. This. Family. Apart. Do you understand?” 

“ _Muuuuummm_. We get it. Family comes first, always.” William whined starting to feel hungry, breakfast had been earlier than usual since they had to finish packing for Hogwarts and listen to this lecture. 

“There will be people at Hogwarts who will only try to not only separate you, but to manipulate you and your fame. You will meet people who will try doing _anything_ to become your closest friend, your confidant. Do not trust them. They will ultimately be thinking of how they can use whatever you tell them for their own benefit. You will be each other’s best friend and confidant. I don’t care how _lame_ it is having your brother as your best friend—you will do it. You may of course have other friends, but be careful and wary of them for they are not family, and thus their motives are to be questioned. Dumbledore also has a hidden agenda, so be wary of him as well. And—“ 

“We got it Dad: pretty much don’t trust anyone besides each other, or we’re screwed.” Harry said tiredly, wondering how much more time this would take. 

“Boys, listen. I know you feel like we’re acting overprotective, but we still remember how bad the publicity was over nine years ago. According to Sirius, it has only gotten worse. Think of yourselves as the equivalent of British royalty, just for the Wizarding World—that’s how bad things will be. Also, do not talk with any reporters, do not give out your political opinion—yes, I know you’re only _eleven_ , William. They will still want to know your political agenda, so don’t tell them. Yes, not even that you don’t _have_ a political opinion, you do not want to seem unintelligent, or worse, uncaring of the Wizarding World… Now, do not get caught breaking any rules—so try not to pull any pranks, yes James I understand they’re _your_ sons, that’s why I used the word try here. Don’t do something that could end up on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Don’t make any enemies you cannot afford, or friends who would sooner stab you in the back. And don’t even think of dating anyone right now—Don’t give me that disgusted look Harry, you won’t think that’s gross once puberty hits you, so I’m warning you now there will be girls who will try to go after you for your fame, money, looks, or just to play you. So don’t fall for it. Another thing, if you let any girl come in between the both of you, I will _personally_   feed you one of my potions. Do not alienate any of your professors, and don’t act like how your father was when _he_ was eleven. _He_ wasn’t famous, and thus he didn’t have to worry about impressions like you do.” 

“Being famous sucks.” William sighed, exchanging glances with his twin. 

“Are we done now?” Harry asked, starting to get more than annoyed. 

“Alright then… Everyone grab hold of the portkey.” Lily gestured at the pale blue handkerchief. “Good, lets get going then.” 

And they vanished in a swirl of colorful lights.  

* * *

 Arriving at Kings Cross Station was a nightmare. There were large and numerous groups of families waiting everywhere, as opposed to the typical parents and the occasional sibling who showed up every year. Grandmothers and Great-Grandmothers, cousins and uncles. It was pandemonium. Cameras went off everywhere, and reporters were stationed at every corner ready for the Potters to arrive. It seemed as if the entire Wizarding World had tried showing up. As soon as the portkey arrived on the platform, reporters rushed forward, camera flashes blinding everyone in vicinity. It was horrible. James moved in front of his family, grabbing one of his son’s trunks and handing it over to Harry. “Good luck,” he whispered, kissing his son’s brow lightly. Harry nodded, and gave him a short but hard hug, before entering the train. The reporters rushed forward, “Lord Potter, a word?” 

“Was that Harry Potter who entered the train just now?” 

“Lady Potter can you say a few words regarding your children’s first day in Wizarding public?” 

“Is that William Potter?” 

“May we speak to you, Mr. William Potter? It will only take a few minutes.” 

James determinedly ignored the reporters surrounding the three of them, and instead handed the other trunk to William, “Stay safe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his other son’s brow. William smiled at him, before turning and smiling at his mother as well. Raising a hand in farewell, he rushed to the train, disappearing. As soon as he left, James grabbed Lily’s hand, and using his other hand, grabbed his wand and promptly activated the portkey to return them home. They disappeared, leaving the reporters behind.

~*~ 

 **Hogwarts Express**

William walked inside, trying to slip in unnoticed in the crowd of students looking for their friends. He looked around, trying to find where his brother had gone. Not spotting him, he sighed, and resolved to check each individual compartment. After doing this unsuccessfully, he almost gave up in exasperation, when he finally opened a door and saw a familiar black-haired boy looking out the window. 

Huffing, he said, “Thanks for waiting for me, baby brother.” He sat down across from the other boy. 

The other turned to face him, “William, _don’t_ call me that.” Bright green eyes glared at him. 

“I wouldn’t have, if _someone_ would have waited for me.” 

“How old are you, that you need me to wait for you hand and knee?” 

“However old I am, baby brother, it’s definitely more than you.” William grinned wolfishly. 

“I’d rather be young than an old man like you.” Harry returned, not missing a beat. 

Just then a knock was heard on the compartment door. They both turned to look at it, before William said, “Who is it?” 

The door opened, and a bushy brown-haired girl came in. Then looking at the twins, she asked, “Everywhere else is full, do you mind?” 

Harry looked at her for a second before shaking his head. William merely sighed, now he had to act as a proper member of the Potter Family as well as the Boy-Who-Lived, and thus he couldn’t continue teasing Harry. 

The girl, seeming to come to the conclusion that William was not in the mood to talk, turned to face Harry as she sat across from him. Harry, dismissively, was now looking through the window again. “I’m Hermione Granger,” she said. “My parents were both astonished when they found out I was a witch, but it was a wonderful surprise, and I’m very pleased to be here. What about you?” 

“My name is Harry, and this is my brother William.” Harry wasn’t in the mood to talk either, but decided that one of them had to remain polite, and it seemed that this time it would be him. _Lucky me_ , he thought, annoyed. 

“Aren’t you excited to go to Hogwarts? It’s supposed to be one the _finest_ schools in Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world! Do you know what House you’re going to be in? I mean, none of us know for sure until we get there, but I’m personally hoping for Gryffindor. After all, Albus Dumbledore was said to have been a Gryffindor once. Ravenclaw doesn’t seem that bad, but I don’t know about the other two Houses.” 

She said all this very fast. Harry and William exchanged glances. _She didn’t even have to breathe during that speech._  

“Slytherin,” Harry said, quite bored. 

“Really?” She gasped, “Many convicted Death Eaters have been from Slytherin, according to _Notable Wizarding Characters of the War With You-Know-Who_. Are you sure you want to be in Slytherin?” 

Harry smiled coldly, “I’m sure.” He was beginning to like her even less than before, which was quite impressive as he hadn’t liked her at all before. 

William, sensing his twin’s foul mood, interrupted, “I believe I will be in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.” 

“You should be in Gryffindor. Then we can be in the same House. Hufflepuff has the least successful alumni—“ 

“And Slytherin has the most.” Harry was definitely angry now. 

“I’m sorry, but there are many successful Slytherins in the Wizarding World, they didn’t all join the Death Eathers.” William decided to distract the girl before she said something that would make Harry hex her. 

The girl stood up, “Well I can see that I’m not wanted here,” she sniffed, “so I’ll just be leaving then.” She walked to the door, and giving Harry one last glance, opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind her. 

As soon as the door closed, William turned towards his brother, “Don’t worry she was getting on my nerves too.” 

“She was bigoted.” Harry said. 

“She doubted your Slytherin-ness,” William said mock gravelly, “I completely understand baby broth—“ He ducked the hex that came towards him. “Don’t worry, you’ll still do Slytherin proud. And if worst comes to worst, you can be a Slytherdor.” He beamed. 

“Slytherdor?” Harry questioned warily, wondering what his twin was going on about now. 

“Its like being in Slytherin and Gryffindor combined. This way you can have the best of both.” 

That idiot. “I fail to see what the best of Gryffindor would be.” 

“Why me of course?” William proclaimed, a hand to his chest. 

“Oh, of course, however did I forget?” Harry did not sound enthusiastic. In fact he sounded so unenthusiastic that enthusiasm seemed to be in an alternative universe away from Harry. 

William smiled. Harry had forgotten about the Granger girl. _Mission accomplished_ , he thought to himself. He and his brother kept a light conversation going until they arrived at Hogwarts, stopping only to change into their school uniforms.

~*~ 

 **Hogwarts Grounds**  

The first years congregated right in the Hogwarts entranceway. Many of the students were looking around nervously, while others stayed in groups, speaking quietly. Hermione looked around excitedly, Hogwarts looked like a fairy-tale castle. With colorful tapestries of golden lions roaring, on scarlet silk, ornate badgers attacking, on bright yellow satin, bronze eagles flying, on a deep blue silk, and silver snakes dancing, on emerald satin, the castle seemed positively medieval. There were lanterns on the walls to light the corridors, impressive knights’ armor stationed in every entranceway and beautifully detailed portraits adorning the walls. The stone floors and high arched ceilings made her feel as if she was a princess from a long time ago. This was going to be her school, she thought. _The finest school of witchcraft and wizardry,_ and I’m going to be learning _magic_. She glanced at the students in the larger groups: there was a blonde pale-faced boy who was speaking quietly to several other students who seemed almost _aristocratic_ in appearance. She hesitated, and then decided to approach them. 

“Hi, my name is Hermione Granger.”  They looked her over, eyes noting the quality of her robes, and her messy frizzy hair. 

She blushed, but decided to keep trying. “Are you excited to be going to Hogwarts? Do you know what House you’re going to be sorted in?” This time they didn’t even look at her, instead acting as if she didn’t exist. 

Feeling angry now, she looked back at them, eyes flashing, “You’re being very rude, not even telling me your names!” 

At this point everyone in the entranceway was looking at them. Some students had pitying looks on their faces, while others looked at her disdainfully. The two boys from the train were also watching, their eyes assessing everything. 

Finally, the blonde-haired boy answered coldly, “My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir to the House of Malfoy. I will be in Slytherin, as my father was, and his father before him. Who do you think you are to address us so savagely, Mudblood?”

There were gasps, as people heard the insult. Hermione frowned, not understanding. 

“A Mudblood is a filthy abomination born of Muggles. They have no Family Magic, no understanding of the Wizarding World, and they endanger our entire society. _You_ are a Mudblood. One who is too disgusting to remain in either the Muggle World or ours,” A black-haired, dark-skinned Italian boy said mockingly, “Oh, and I am Blaise Zabini, Heir of House Zabini of the Italian nobility.” 

Hermione flinched, feeling tears burn in her eyes. She refused to show them any weakness but she felt _awful_ , and no one had disagreed with the two boys so far. Everyone around them had heard everything, but no one came to her defense. Malfoy and Zabini turned away from her, dismissively, going back to their quiet conversation with the rest of the boys and girls in their group. She stood there, alone, as everyone continued their conversations from before, ignoring her. She had never felt so humiliated, and it was unfair that she was being judged for something she could not control. 

Just then, footsteps were heard coming from around the corner and getting louder. She looked up to see a woman wearing an emerald cloak and matching pointy witch hat emerge. The students all straightened themselves, ending their conversations swiftly, and looking attentively at the witch. 

The witch in turn, looked at them. After some moments of silence she said, “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, as well as the Head of the Gryffindor House. Tonight you will be sorted into your House. There are four Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Each House has a noble history and has produced remarkable wizards and witches. The Sorting Ceremony will determine which House most suits you and it is within that House that you will make most of your close friends. Hogwarts Houses are like families—you will sleep with your House, eat with them, and attend classes with them. 

“While at Hogwarts, you will be subject to our point system. You will be awarded points for many achievements: adhering to your House’s strengths and characteristics, performing well academically, competing and winning in challenges such as: Quidditch, Wizarding Duels, or Hogwarts Club Activities. Each achievement will also be marked in your student file and with your permission, will be made known during your Graduation at the end of your Hogwarts schooling. Contrastingly,” and it was here that the professor’s voice turned a little sharp, “if you break any school rules it will lose your House points. The event will also be marked against you in your student file, and future apprenticeships and employers will look closely at those events before considering hiring you. 

At the end of the school year, the House points will be counted, and the House with the highest number of points will be given the House Cup. Each student within that House will also have it recorded within their file that the accumulation of that year’s achievements led to the winning of the House Cup. Students from other Houses won’t have anything marked against them, however. You will be among the _finest_ of your generation and we all have high hopes for each of you. Make us proud.” Professor McGonagall looked at each student here. She continued, “I will be back in a few minutes to announce you to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. You may tidy yourself up in this remaining time,” and with that, she left. (4) 

As soon as her footsteps faded, the students started talking, louder and faster then before. Now they seemed to be truly excited for the Sorting, and they were eagerly discussing the merits of each House. Hermione looked at the doors to the Great Hall in front of her, not wanting to try talking to any student and gain further humiliation.  

She let the other students’ voices wash over her as she stood slightly apart from the crowd. She thought to herself, _No one was brave enough to stand up for me when I was being humiliated. There were those who disagreed with what Malfoy and Zabini said, yet they did not speak up. Is this the famous Gryffindor bravery? To cower in the face of insults and bullying? Is it worth it, therefore, to be known as a Gryffindor, yet not to act as one. Do I still want to be a Gryffindor?_

She wondered, for the first time about the rest of the Houses. _I’m smart—my teachers all said they had never taught someone as intelligent as I, but do I want my intelligence to define me? In Ravenclaw, I will be another intelligent person, but will I be known for my intelligence, or for_ me _? I am smart, yes, but I am much more than that. What do I want more than anything else right now?_ She thought, _I want to show Malfoy and Zabini that I do belong, that I have a place in this world and that I can become somebody. What House represents all that, though? That is the House I want to be in. I want to show them all that I have what it takes. I will never give them the satisfaction to see that their words were right._

 _And someday maybe…I can change the way this world views Muggleborns,_ a small voice whispered—very quietly—in the back of her mind. 

The doors opened; it was time for the Sorting. 


	3. Dreams Out of Reality

** Chapter Three: Dreams Out of Reality **

_“A **dream** doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.” –Colin Powell_

_“Think carefully before asking for **justice**. Mercy might be safer.” –Mason Cooley_

**The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

One by one, the First Years stood in a single line following Professor McGonagall inside the Great Hall. Students in each of the four tables were watching them. Some uninterestingly, while others carefully looking at certain faces. The First Years looked up in awe at the ceiling, enchanted to show the skies above. The professors sat at the front facing the hall, and an old man with a silvery-white beard and half-moon spectacles looked at them from the center of the Hall. Near the front, an old, shabby witch hat lay on top of a three-legged stool. 

Professor McGonagall stopped before it, and turned to face the First Years. She stood in silence, as the Great Hall quieted. The professors and other students all looked attentively at the hat. The First Years looked there too.

And then: the top of the Hat came off, and the Hat started to sing: 

  _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can top them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a steady mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_  

“I will call your name and you will come to the Sorting Hat and be Sorted in a House. You will then join your Housemates at the House table, while your other Year-mates are sorted.” Professor McGonagall took out a scroll and opened it. 

“Abbot, Hannah!” 

Blushing, a blonde girl walked hesitantly towards the stool and sat, put on the hat. Then— 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the Sorting Hat. 

The table on the right burst into applause as Hannah went to sit at the yellow and black decorated table. 

“Bones, Susan!” 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Hat shouted once more, and Susan blushed, walking towards the same table at the right. 

“Boot, Terry!” 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

The table second from the left, adorned in blue and bronze clapped this time. As Terry sat down, many Ravenclaws stood up and shook hands with him. 

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin.

And so the Sorting continued.

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione walked to the stool. She put the hat on her head and waited. And waited. She did not know why her sorting was taking a while; she grew afraid: _what if it was a mistake? What if she was not a witch? Maybe she was just a plain Mug—_

**_Well isn’t this interesting._ **

Hermione’s shoulders tensed. _Who are you?_

**_Why I am the Sorting Hat, and you have put me in a bit of a conundrum._ **

_What? What are you talking about? What did I do?_

**_From what I can tell, it seems that you have gone through a life changing experience in your life recently._ **

_I don’t understand._

**_A life changing experience is an event that has a significant impact for you. We call this a mutatio. It commonly changes aspects of one’s personality. Most witches and wizards never go through a mutatio, and those that do, experience one much later in life. It is…intriguing that you have not even started learning your first spells and yet have experienced one. It is quite…unusual._ **

_But what does that have anything to do with my Sorting?_

**_You seem to have been greatly impacted by the experience…to the point that the House in which the ‘you from before the event’ would have most definitely gone into, no longer seems to…fit. This is quite interesting._ **

Hermione felt annoyed that the Sorting Hat was talking about her as if she was a science experiment.

**_Yes, we will have to do this properly then, won’t we? Normally I would use Legilmency to determine which House would suit you best, but as you have experienced a mutatio not even an hour ago, all of your memories will be completely useless to determine your personality.  Instead, I will ask you some questions to which you will give me the answer that you feel best reflects on you and I will use that to Sort you. It is an archaic backup, back when more students came to Hogwarts with Occlumency shields and other such things._ **

_Legilmency? Occlumency?_ Hermione’s head spinned from all the new words being thrown about so carelessly.

**_Now, first question: What would you rather that people call you? The choices are ordinary, ignorant, selfish, or cowardly. (4)_ **

She gaped. _Before, I would have said ordinary. But the Sorting Hat said I’ve changed. I don’t_ feel _different, but I do know one thing: I couldn’t stand it if I was ordinary now. It would be like accepting Malfoy’s and Zabini’s insults. I may be Muggleborn, but I am_ not _ordinary._

_The other choices are ignorant, selfish, or cowardly. Out of them, I would not want to be called ignorant. I am intelligent, and I take pride in that. No I would not like being called ignorant either._

_Then, between selfish and cowardly, I think that selfish is the worse one. I don’twant people to think I’m selfish. And, my parents didn’t raise me to be selfish. No I wouldn’t want to be called selfish either._

_And it not as if I would be the only coward,_ Hermione thought angrily of the other students, all of whom had been a coward in her eyes. _This world doesn’t care about cowards. Everyone here only cares of themselves, so being called a coward by a coward wouldn’t hurt._

_Cowardly_ , Hermione thought determinedly.

**_Very well. Next Question: When you die, what would you most like people to do when they hear your name? Your choices are: One: Miss you and smile, Two: Ask for more stories about your adventures, Three: I don’t care what people think about me when I’m dead, it’s when I’m alive that matters, or Four: Think in admiration of your achievements._ **

_It would be nice for people to admire me after my death, but honestly it won’t make that much of a difference to me what people think about me when I’m dead, it’s when I’m alive that matters. After all, when I’m dead, I’m dead._

The Sorting Hat must have heard her, because it moved on to the next question. **_All right, Question Three: What would you prefer to be known for in history? Your options are: the good, the great, the wise, and the bold._**

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. _I would want to be known as the wise. The wise are good too, because wisdom teaches you morals. The wise also have the_ potential _to be great, and those who are truly wise would know when it is time to act bold and when it is time to not._

**_Hmm…you have many characteristics that each of the Founders valued. Intelligence—Rowena’s trait, A deep sense of justice, especially in regards to blood prejudice—Helga’s characteristic, Ambition to do better than all who look down on you—Salazar’s trait, and even bravery: to stand up for what you believe in, even when you’re the only one standing—Godric’s value. Out of these traits, I believe that you would do well in…_ **

**_“RAVENCLAW!”_ **

Hermione stood. She had forgotten that she was in the Great Hall with the rest of the school watching. She had felt as though she had been conversing with the Sorting Hat in private. Hermione felt strange as she walked to the cheering Ravenclaw table, as though she had changed in the deepest, most fundamental way. It was as if her entire destiny had changed: that she had chosen a path that destiny had not meant for her to. As she shook hands with Terry Boot, she smiled.

“I’m Terry Boot,” The boy said in a low voice, not wanting to draw attention away from the still-ongoing Sorting Ceremony.

“Hermione Granger,” she replied back, remembering that the boy had been one of the first years who had looked at her pityingly back in the corridor.

“Looks like we’re going to be Housemates then, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hermione _really_ didn’t feel like making nice with someone who had played the silent bystander to her humiliation.

“So what classes are you looking forward to?”

Apparently Boot wasn’t getting the message. She sighed, wondering if she should ignore him or answer the question. On one hand she was still angry about what happened earlier, on the other hand, she didn’t want to completely alienate the first person who was actually making conversation with her today.

“Transfiguration,” she said finally, wondering if she would regret this later.

Boot beamed at her. “Transfiguration: the skill to transform, or change one item to another. It’s a worthy subject, one that divides in two, after the OWL level. Further studies in Transfiguration are in either Transformation, the magical art of Transfiguration as it applies to the physical state, or Metamorphosis, the magical science of Transfiguration as it applies at the atomic level. We still have a few years before we have to decide what subfield of Transfiguration we wish to pursue, but do you know which one you are more interested in, right now?”

“I-How do you know all that? I haven’t heard anything like that about Transfiguration from our textbooks,” Hermione was flustered, she was actually curious about the topic to the point that she had let go of her remaining anger at Boot, at least for the time being.

“I have an uncle who works at MetaPhys Inc. Its an incredibly prestigious private corporation that deals with changing weather catastrophes into lighter, less hostile weather magic. Its quite interesting. Uncle Tibius mentioned how he has to transfigure rain condensation in clouds into diatomic molecules of pure oxygen and hydrogen gas. Of course they can’t drastically change the concentration of oxygen gas and hydrogen gas in the atmosphere, because that would have huge effects on global warming and can lead to increased attention from the Muggles, to say the least. So the MetaPhys Mages mostly transfigure each condensed water droplet into a particle of sunlight or, morph it to its evaporated state, and from there morph it further back to its state as a part of the ocean or sea, and then use a minor variant of the food banishing charm to bring it back to the ocean, where other Water Mages monitor the morphed rain, to make sure there weren’t any mistakes made that can affect the water animals and plants,” Terry seemed very interested in this subject and it made Hermione wonder whether he too wanted to work at MetaPhys Inc. just like his uncle.

“You seem very interested in it,” she said, smiling at his obvious enthusiasm.

“Oh yes. I want to be a MetaPhys Mage, but particularly I want to work in the Reasearch and Development of Weather Spells Department. That means I need at least 6 OWLs: an O in Transfiguration obviously, an O in Charms, and at least an E in Potions, Herbology, and Arithmomancy, and at least an A in Astronomy. Of course extra-curriculars help as well, so I’m planning on taking Earth Magic—it’s supposed to be really good, and Uncle Tibius was a member for all of his years at Hogwarts, he was even the Teaching Assistant for the subject in his Seventh Year—“ Terry would have continued, had the Great Hall not suddenly hushed.

They both glanced at the front of the Hall, where the remaining students were still waiting to be Sorted. Professor McGonagall read out the next name, as some students craned their heads towards the unsorted first years, and others watched, waiting with anticipation.

“Potter, Harry,” McGonagall called.

A young boy, pale and dark haired, walked up to the Sorting Hat, and put it on his head. The silence grew, as everyone watched, waiting for the House to be called. But the Sorting Hat stayed quiet, and as the minutes dragged on, the silence became stifling until whispers and hushed murmurs broke out among the students.

Hermione turned back to Terry Boot, “What’s going on?”

Terry looked at her incredulously, “You don’t _know_? That is Harry Potter, the twin brother of William Potter, who is the Boy-Who-Lived,” he said, nodding his head at another boy with red hair who was waiting to be Sorted. Hermione stared at the red-haired boy; he seemed to look very—“I remember him,” she said out loud, unintentionally.

“Wait you _know_ them?” Terry seemed extremely curious.

“Well I met them on the train to Hogwarts,” she decided not to mention how she had offended the dark-haired twin—Harry Potter.

Terry looked at her with awe.

She merely blinked at him.

“I read about the Boy-Who-Lived, his twin brother, and the rest of his family, but I still didn’t think everyone would act like _this_ ,” Hermione whispered.

“It’s like they are the Royal Family or something.”

Terry snorted, “Well books don’t always show the details. Its hard to convey everything through writing, some things need to be seen in person to believe.”

Hermione made note of that. She had always believed in the absolute truth of the written word, but apparently things were different here in the Wizarding World. And Terry was right, the books she read all praised the Potter family, but seeing the reactions of the students painted a much more vivid picture. “I suppose some things have to be experienced,” she muttered, agreeing with Terry’s point.

“Hufflepuff!” The Sorting Hat had decided on a House. And what a decision it was: as soon as it called out the name of the House, pandemonium broke out. While Harry Potter walked towards the badger House table, head held high and shoulders squared, students from the other three Houses started whispering loudly to each other. The Gryffindors looked disappointed, the rest of the Ravenclaws curious, and the Slytherins bitter. The Hufflepuffs, in contrast, looked positively delighted. They were cheering wildly, some of them were on their feet, applauding the Sorting, while others looked as if they were about to make a toast. They all started shaking hands with Potter as he made his way to an empty seat.

After a minute, the Hall was silent again, as students started to notice the other Potter boy still standing, waiting to be Sorted. They all watched hungrily as McGonagall gave the sitting students a stern glare, then cleared her throat and pronounced, “Potter, William.”

The tall, red haired boy walked confidently to the stool, and sat down, placing the Sorting Hat upon his head. Almost immediately, the Sorting Hat called out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

And, just like before, it was chaos. The Gryffindors, who had been sulking still from Harry Potter’s Sorting, all perked up, smiles and laughs. They clapped hard, some students even going so far as to stomp their feet. The other Houses looked disappointed, except for Hufflepuff—most likely, since they had at least gotten one-half of the famous twins. Hermione felt strange, as if she was waching a concert, and the celebrity on stage suddenly decided to give out autographs. It was extremely disconcerting. As she watched William Potter walk to the red and gold decorated table, she made eye contact with another student. It was the boy she had met at the train station, the chubby, round-faced boy who had been looking for his pet toad. He had been quiet, and had stuttered as he had introduced himself to her. She had liked him, even if he seemed quite nervous and timid. _I thought he would have gone to Hufflepuff. Someone like him—_ Hermione flinched at her train of thought. _Who? Someone shy and painfully awkward, that just shows me that I have prejudices too, maybe not blood prejudices, but still some kind. I should be happy for the boy, not doubting his Sorting. The Hat must have seen something in him, to consider putting him in the Gryffindor House._ Feeling better for stopping herself from becoming as judgmental as some of her other Yearmates, she smiled at him and waved, getting a surprised look in return, as well as a hesitant wave back. _I wont become like them,_ she vowed, as Terry asked her who she was waving to.

 

**Gryffindor Table, Across the Great Hall**

Neville was very surprised. He had thought that he would not have any friends. When his House had been called, he had received the standard response that was given to every student. He had thought he would finally _belong_ , but as soon as he had began to walk up to the Gryffindor Table, the laughs had started. His face burned red as he remembered the look Professor McGonagall had given him as she had sternly asked for the Sorting Hat, which had been lying on top of his head, still. He had been mortified, as he had forgotten to take the Hat off before joining his new Housemates.

Whoever said Gryffindors were nice and friendly was _wrong_. As soon as he had found an empty seat at the table, he received a few jeers and taunts on his mistake from a couple of Third Years who were sitting next to him. After he had embarrassed himself even further, by stammering and turning red, the two older students looked away from him in disgusted dismissal, continuing an earlier conversation and ignoring him.

Neville sighed; at least the frizzy haired girl he had met on the train station had acknowledged him. He felt guilty that he had not said anything in the corridor before the Sorting Ceremony, but his Gran would have killed him if she found out he had been argued with the Malfoy Heir. Gran was a Pureblood traditionalist, and so was Lucius Malfoy. Going against Malfoy’s son, and for a _Muggleborn_ , would have enraged his grandmother. He sighed, at least the Ravenclaw girl hadn’t seemed to hold it against him. _If anything she probably expected me to cower away and not say anything. I can’t even defend myself properly, why would she expect me to defend her._ He hadn’t missed the surprised expression on her face as she had noticed what table he had been sitting at. He wasn’t surprised, his entire family had thought him to be a Squib for the better part of his life. He hadn’t had any accidental magic, and his family, most particularly his Gran and Uncle Algie had been convinced that he was only a disappointing Squib. In fact, it had taken him being thrown out a window, for the rest of the Most Noble House of Longbottom to be finally convinced that he was in fact a Wizard. Neville shuddered as he thought of what would have happened had he not bounced, instead hitting the ground. _They could have just waited for my Hogwarts letter_ , he contemplated, not for the first time. Ever since that incident, Neville had developed an acute fear of heights, in addition to his already present stutter and timidity.

Suddenly, out of nowhere food appeared on the empty plates in front of him. He noted that the Sorting Cereony had concluded, and all the students had been Sorted. He looked around himself, as he grabbed a plate of chicken lasagna. There, he spotted a couple of boys who were also First Years, one had red hair, a lot of freckles, and was that dirt on his nose? Neville shook his head, listening to what they were taking about. “Do you play Quidditch then?” The boy—a Weasley, Neville identified—was presumably talking to a pale, skinny boy who had blue eyes and dark brown hair. “My team is the Cannons…” The Weasley boy continued, as he tore his chicken off of his wings, before messily chewing the ripped pieces. Neville wrinkled his nose, before turning away, looking for his other Yearmates.

There—the Boy-Who-Lived sat at the center of it all, a group of First Years and even a Prefect close to him. The Prefect—who also looked like a Weasely—was the one talking, yet everyone seemed to mostly look back at William Potter instead, more interested in his reactions. He didn’t want to admit it but he was jealous of him, just a little. Potter had people lining up, ready to be his friend, he had a family—parents—that loved him, and a brother who he seemed close to as well. Neville, on the other hand, had no one lining up to be friends with him. He had a family, but they were all relatives, and yes, maybe things would have been different if he had more magic, if didn’t stutter, and liked playing Quidditch, like other boys his age, but he didn’t, and so he wasn’t loved.

He had been taken in by his Gran, grudgingly, after his parents had—had—But the bottom line was that she did not love him; she didn’t even like him. She wanted his Father, and since that was impossible, she wanted for him to be his Father. But that was also impossible—he wasn’t handsome, or brave, smart, or funny. That wasn’t him. And she didn’t understand that. He was the boy who had a toad—not an owl or a cat. Who loved plants—not Quidditch. Who had relatives—not family. He was the boy who was unwanted by his family, constantly compared to his father, and who had so far lived a lonely life. He was just Neville, but that wasn’t what the world wanted from him.

Neville frowned as he lost himself in his depressing thoughts.

 ______________________________________________________________________

**Slytherin Table, Across the Great Hall**

Draco Malfoy was pleased. Everything was going so perfectly. He had upheld the Malfoy name by getting Sorted into the most prestigious and only worthy House in Hogwarts: Slytherin. He was already the leader of his Slytherin Yearmates, and he had done a wonderful job of showing his other Yearmates his power earlier that evening, prior to the start of the Sorting Ceremony. Putting the Mudblood in her place also served as a reminder to the other students of who he was. He was the only son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy. He was the product of the Malfoy line and the secondary line of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. He was a Pureblood, a member of one of the most richest and well-connected family in all of Europe, and this was _his_ time to shine.

Both of his parents had found themselves at Hogwarts, done and experienced things that had marked them for the rest of their lives. They had both met each other at Hogwarts as well, during a legendary Slug Club meeting. His mother had been a Charms Mistress, a respectable field for a Pureblood, and that she was a witch and not a wizard only brought more praise on her. His father on the other hand—what _hadn’t_ he accomplished? He was a successful politician, regularly speaking with both Minister Fudge and Undersecretary Umbridge regarding all sorts of Ministry policies. He was an active Lord of the House of Malfoy, attending legislative meetings every fortnight with the rest of the House of Lords. He even had time to supervise Hogwarts as one of its Board Governors. It was very impressive, and that wasn’t even looking at his father’s greatest accomplishment, one that was kept far out of the public eye: rising through the Dark Lord’s ranks to the position of His Right Hand man, by the age of 23!

It was daunting, knowing that he had to beat his father in all this and more if he wanted to ever bring glory to the Malfoy name. He was confident in his blood, magic, and mind. _And no one will ever take away the glory that rightfully belongs to me._ Draco turned to face Blaise and Lukas Navarro, who was a Prefect as well as the Heir to La Casa Magnifico de Navarro (the Magnificent House of Navarro) de la Castilla de España (of Castile, Spain). Navarro was explaining how classes would start the day after tomorrow, as they were given a free day to assimilate to Hogwarts, unpack their belongings, map out their schedules and class routes, as well as join a club, if desired. Draco asked a few detailed questions on how the professors were like, out of curiosity, and Navarro answered them while eating his dinner, shrimp scampi with dragonberry juice. Draco privately could not understand how Navarro looked so calm and accepting of their questions. If he was in Navarro’s position, he would have let the first years handle everything by themselves, Prefect or not. But since he was not in Navarro’s place, he and Blaise decided to take advantage of the older Slytherin’s niceness and have all their questions answered.

They ended up learning quite a bit: For example, every year there was a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but this was the first time an already on-staff Professor would decide to teach the cursed job. Most Professors had enough sense to stay away from a position that had a new professor every year, and ended with many of the professors either suffering through scandals, going to Azkaban prison, ending up missing, or worse. That a Hogwarts professor suddenly decided that after 3 years teaching Muggle Studies(!), to try their hand at the Defense post, was utterly bemusing. _What an idiot,_ Draco thought snidely, _a great big Muggle-loving one._

Meanwhile Blaise asked questions about Dumbledore. “I have heard that Dumbledore is merely an ornamental figure now. Rumors fly in Italy that the once-esteemed War Wizard and Lord of the Light is now nothing more than a political figure. Is it true then,” and here Blaise leant forward, “Is it true that Dumbledore’s once revered powers are _fading_?”

Draco looked up as well, wondering the same. His father had been making more sneering remarks about Dumbledore as of late, but he hadn’t heard anything regarding what the Zabini heir was suggesting. _To lose your magic,_ he mused to himself, _every Lord-level wizard’s greatest nightmare. It was why there were such few Lord-level wizards in existence at a time. Any more than that, and we would all be living in a constant war zone. And so Magic only gave the highest of her powers to few of her children. “Only to those who were strong of heart, great of mind…Those would become the Light Lords…To those who were fraught with desire and ripe for blood…Those would become the Dark Lords…_ Draco shivered as he thought of the last and final part of the old nursery rhyme, the ending to the poem that very few people even knew about. _And to those—To those unbroken in will and favored by Fate…Those would become the Grey Lords, The most terrifying of them all.”_

Draco decided to distract himself by listening to Blaise and Navarro’s conversation. _Don’t be ridiculous,_ he thought to himself, _there hasn’t been an actual Grey Lord in nearly a thousand years. Grey Lords don’t exist anymore; they’re just an old wives’ tale, used to scare little children._

If only he could only convince himself. 


	4. Chapter Four: Whose Unfavorable Opinions?

** Chapter Four: Whose Unfavorable Opinions? **

_“It’s the **friends** you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.” –Marlene Dietrich_

_“ **Patience** is the companion of wisdom.” –Saint Augustine_

**Later that Night, Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts Castle**

William Potter sat on the comfortable leather armchair. Around him sat a group of first and second years that were all looking at him with hero worship in their eyes. To his left, sat Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan, who kept glancing at him every minute or so while they talked about Quidditch (Again?). He felt like sighing and pulling at his hair in frustration but he decided that the increased attention from his Housemates wouldn’t be worth it. And Mum would kill him when she found out. And his mum _would_ find out. She always did somehow. According to Harry, their mum had eyes on the back of her head that would always watch them. According to him, she had eyes on the back of _their_ heads too. _All the better to keep an eye on you, my dears_ , he thought in a creepy voice. He shuddered. Deciding to head up to the dormitories now, since he wasn’t really in the mood to be gawked at by a group of pre-teens, he wished everyone good night, and said he was feeling exhausted. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” he said to his group of er, admirers. Everyone looked really disappointed, but in the end they all nodded and let him go upstairs.

William sighed in relief, as he opened the door and let himself into the boys’ dormitories, only to freeze at the sight of another boy sitting in the room. _I swear I’m going to go crazy_ , he thought, annoyed at having to deal with another fan.

The other boy had glanced at him when the door opened, but seemed more content to ignore the famous wizard.

Curious now, William studied the other boy, trying to remember his name. Not being able to, he walked up to the other boy, and decided to introduce himself.

“Hello, my name is William Potter.”

The other boy looked at him, “I know who you are,” he said quietly.

Okaaay…This was awkward.

“What’s your name?” He tried again.

For a second it looked like the other boy wouldn’t reply. But then--“Neville. Neville Longbottom.” This time, the boy—Neville—looked at him.

William beamed. “Well Neville, what are you looking forward to doing at Hogwarts?”

Neville looked down at his hands. “I-I like studying p-plants,” he stuttered, not making eye contact.

William cocked an eyebrow. “You must be looking forward to Herbology class then. What kind of plants do you like?”

Neville looked up, surprised. “Um, yeah—I’ve read a bit out of the Herbology textbook, and it sounded really interesting. But I want to work with healing herbs—you know, like the ones Healers and Potion’s Masters use.”

“That sounds pretty interesting. Do you have a favorite?” William had began to relax now, genuinely interested in listening to something else besides his fame, good looks, or how he survived the night he became the Boy-Who-Lived. And plants that healed sounded pretty neat too.

Neville nodded, “The Scabbery Roots—They’re used for a lot of things, like to help with forgetfulness, and to soothe magic.”

“Really? That sounds pretty useful. Do you like Potions then, since it uses herbs and plants?”

And so the conversation continued.

And two lonely boys began to form a tentative friendship.

**That Same Night, The Slytherin Common Room**

Draco Malfoy lounged on a stiff black armchair. Around him sat his fellow Slytherin Yearmates, all of whom had their own conversations but kept glancing back at him, as if for approval. _I am like a king surrounded by knights and ladies of the court._ Draco smirked, liking that analogy. Navarro was sitting a distance away, speaking in low hushed voices with a group of burly, scowling older Slytherins, all of whom seemed completely tense for some strange reason. Draco shrugged it off; he hadn’t heard of anything important happening, so it was probably nothing serious. Instead he turned his head towards the rest of his surroundings.

The Slytherin Common Room was located deep within the dungeons, far away from the rest of the school. The Common Room was protected with a suitable password that changed every week. This week the password was _Ambition_ , which was fitting for the entrance to the Slytherin territory. Inside the Common Room, everything was black, silver, or shades of green. All the furniture was the best dragonhide leather, while the curtains were made of dark jade-colored Acromantula silk. The rugs had been imported from China, and there were five small tables made of jet-black wood with accompanying matching wooden chairs all situated throughout the room. The flames in the fireplace were charmed green, and they glinted ominously in the dim light. Draco thought the décor was artfully done, and was very elegant in how the room suited the Slytherin House. Draco looked around him at his fellow Housemates.

There was his group: sitting in the middle of the room, closest to the fireplace, then there was another group made up entirely of older witches farther out, sitting around a table with what looked like gossip magazines like Witch Weekly and Teen Witch out and spread wide open. In another corner of the room, closer to the dormitories, there was a group of older wizards who seemed to be discussing Quidditch teams and individual players, while playing Exploding Snap. Then there was Lukas and his group of friends, sitting close to the entrance of the common room, discussing textbooks. _Boring,_ Draco thought, _but then again they all look like they’re either in their O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts year. But still, classes haven’t even started yet—they’re acting like a bunch of Ravenclaws._ Another group of second and third year witches and wizards sat around two close tables and were playing Gobstones. Draco wondered how they were enjoying the game without wagering anything. He looked a little closer and still couldn’t see any Galleons or objects on top of the tables. _Its kind of dumb to play a game of Gobstones without wagering anything,_ Draco thought to himself.

Draco looked at all the Slytherins around him. These were supposed to be the most cunning, sly, and ambitious. Instead, they seemed like a group of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. It was _unsightly_.

Draco huffed, looking around at his Yearmates. Blaise was talking to Theodore Nott and Roger Malone about the rising tensions between Wizards and Gobllins, Pansy and Daphne were discussing the merits of borderline dark magic theory in quiet, hushed tones. Davis, and Brocklehurst were playing a game of Wizarding chess, with Bulstrode watching on the side. _They still had potential._

We _could do it,_ he realized,we _could bring back the greatness Slytherin was once renowned for. We would be legends. Slytherin legends. And I could make it happen. I could be the leader—the Head of Slytherin. This is my purpose. This will be how I will make Father proud. This will be_ my _mark on the world._

And Draco plotted.

**At the Same Time, the Ravenclaw Common Room**

Hermione Granger was amazed. The Ravenclaw Common Room was light and airy. It was situated in a tower, so the entire room was circular in shape. The walls were a deep blue color, with depictions of bronze eagles stretching their winds and flying upwards. The furniture was soft and luxurious, but what captured each of the first years’ attentions was the Grand Library situated behind the Statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. To be able to access it, one had to touch Rowena’s forehead, below the diadem placed on top of her head, and say, “Knowledge is Power.” The library entranceway would then open, allowing enough room for however many people had said the password. The library would not be able to be seen from anywhere in the common room. It was only after the entranceway would appear, would the student be allowed into the Grand Library.

_And what a library it is!_ Hermione thought, looking around at her current surroundings.               

The Grand Library had originally been Ravenclaw’s own personal library. She had given her library to her students—her beloved Ravenclaws, as they were the only ones who would appreciate the enormity of her gift. Each Founder had left behind something of great importance for their respective students—a gift that would foster unity within the House, while highlighting a key trait that all Housemates shared with each other.

But Ravenclaw had also placed conditions on her gift. At the end of each Ravenclaw’s seventh year, the student would have to bring a book that was not already in the Grand Library, and gift it, so that future Ravenclaw students would be able to read it. This kept all knowledge within the Grand Library, both outdated and new. It also underlined a key value of Rowena Ravenclaw, that all knowledge should be shared and delighted in. This point also brought up another condition, one that no material was “banned” or “restricted.” Unlike the Hogwart’s Library which had a Restricted Section, and even then some subjects were completely forbidden, Rowena’s Library was not selective. There were books on Dark Arts, books on Light Arts, Ministry forbidden subjects, as well as completely innocent books. The Grand Library was Ravenclaw House’s pride and joy. There was no ward or secrecy charm to prevent Ravenclaw students from talking about the Grand Library to non-Ravenclaws, but there was no need for any security precaution. Ravenclaws were hoarders of knowledge, jealsously guarding each speck of information, and not willing for others to savor what they considered theirs. In the thousand years the Grand Library had existed, no Ravenclaw had ever told a non-Housemate of the treasure of knowledge hidden inside their common room. Rowena Ravenclaw had valued knowledge and wisdom above everything else; she believed that knowledge must constantly be furthered, and the failure to do so would translate to the failure of being a Ravenclaw.

It was because of this, that Ravenclaw students rarely turned out purely Light or Dark. Regardless of blood or parentage, most Ravenclaw students turned out to be neutral, and open to all sorts of magic. And they had to be, since this was the House of the inventors and researchers, the theorists and future educators. To be a Ravenclaw meant to value all types of knowledge, from the seemingly useless to the extremely dangerous, each had to be understood the same.

The Ravenclaw prefect, Maria Hedge, had told all the First Years all of this and more, her voice passionate about Rowena’s values. She explained that the Ravenclaw Grand Library was not just open to every current Ravenclaw student, but to former ones as well. And Ravenclaw alumni did show up to the Ravenclaw Tower to make use of the Library. Past students came back for information that could be useful for mastery-level work, apprenticesips, research, and many other things. The only catch was once a Ravenclaw who has already left Hogwarts wished to visit the Grand Library they had to fulfill two conditions: one, to donate a book—just as they had at the end of their seventh year—for every year they visited, and two, they had to also either employ or mentor a current willing Ravenclaw student in the alumni’s chosen field. _This_ was the secret to Ravenclaws’ networking. Every Ravenclaw had many opportunities to meet with some of the greatest witches and wizards of the day. Every Ravenclaw, upon graduating, had a job already waiting for them, and contacts already well developed. It was _pure genius_. So of course Rowena Ravenclaw had been the one to think up the entire idea. She had called it the Master-Apprentice-Master System. Where a Master, or Ravenclaw alumnus had an Apprentice, or current Ravenclaw student, who would then in turn become a Master as well, gaining his or her own Apprentice as well. This MAM System made it so that knowledge would pass down from one generation to the next, not disappear into history. The MAM employment or mentorship would also be legal, with a Ministry-approved contract, and so there were rarely any problems on that front. The system wasn’t perfect, but considering it was about a thousand years old, it worked very well, with only minor flaws.      

As First Years, they had to wait until the teacher reports came back after the first week of lessons, before they could be approached for Mentorships. Most First Years didn’t get an offer of Mentorship that early but by the end of the first term, nearly all the First Years did receive at least one offer.

Hermione didn’t know what she wanted to be, when she grew up. There were so many options and some were only accessible to certain people of _distinct_ talents. There were careers in Academia, which almost always required higher-level studies and extensive work experience; there were jobs in the Ministry that ranged from typical governmental regulations departments to the exalted Minister of Magic position. There was the Wizemgamot, which acted as a judiciary branch of government, and the House of Lords, which acted as the legislative. There were jobs such as Healing, Curse-breaking, Inventing, and Wand-making. Some of these jobs had requirements on blood; some had requirements on magical power; and most had hidden requirements on _connections_.

But it was almost unanimously agreed that to get _anywhere_ in the Wizarding World, it didn’t matter so much as _what_ you knew so much as _who_ you knew. It was a political system, Hermione mused, one that depended on the rich, famous, and successful to associate themselves with more rich, famous, and successful people. Hermione could find so many flaws in the system—in the Muggle World the mere _concept_ of it would have been called a waste for the unfortunate, poor, or luckless—but she could not deny one thing: _somehow,_ in the Wizarding World, it _worked._ She didn’t know why, but she was starting to realize that the Wizarding World was _very_ different from the Muggle one. Different cultures existed in each one, with different histories shaping each world. The Wizarding World had _magic_ , something so alien to the Muggle World that depended on logic and limitations, technology and science.

_And that is the difference,_ Hermione realized, _Wizards and Witches have magic, so_ how _could they think in terms of limitations, while the Muggle World was_ defined _by its laws and limitations. In the Muggle World certain ideas were indisputable facts: the laws governing gravity, and space, the concept of mass and density—In the Wizarding World these ideas are just thrown aside with the wave of a wand. The Levitation Charm, and gravity is slapped in the face. The transfiguration of a matchstick to a needle, and the rules rearding mass and space are made a mockery of. Whenever a limitation came up in the Muggle World, people would try to go around it as much as was possible. Gravity held that what goes up must come down, so the Muggles invented planes, that started on the ground, went up in the air, stayed up with fuel, and came down when the fuel ran out. They worked with those limitations, while Wizards were not aware of those limitations existing in the first place. Each World had its own laws and rules, each held only true for that world. Case in fact, one limitation that_ does _exist in the Wizarding World is that food cannot be conjured. That rule would make no sense in the Muggle World, as conjuring does not exist. But in the Wizarding World, it was a Basic Law for Governing Magic._

_And what has the Wizarding World done to push that rule?_ But Hermione realized she did not know, she had only known of the Wizarding World for a little less than two months now, and for all she knew research _was_ currently being done in regards to these rules.

She decided, _First I must learn all that I can about the Wizarding World, before I can do anything—be anything._

Hermione looked ahead of her, towards the thousands and thousands of Ravenclaw books, and decided: _I will start here._

Above her, the clock in the library chimed: it was midnight.

**The Next Day, Hogwarts Great Hall**

The next morning, Neville sat at the Gryffindor Table eating breakfast. He had woken up earlier than most of his House, and not knowing what to do, he had decided to have an early breakfast. Glancing around at the rest of the Hall, he noticed Harry Potter sitting near the center of the Hufflepuff Table—and wasn’t that a strange thought? Neville had grown up in the Wizarding World; he had listened to the stories and whispered myths surrounding the Potter Family. He knew that Magical Twins were respected; they represented Magic’s gift to a family that had especially pleased her. And _everyone_ knew that Magical Twins _always_ had the same power. They were magical equals in terms of power. And normally this would mean that twins would be given more respect, after all one did not disrespect Magic’s gift. To do so, would be the same as disrespecting Magic herself. And no one did that. It was why no one insulted the Weasley Twins, not even the Slytherins. Being a Magical Twin meant immunity from insults and bullying. Magical Twins were cherished in the Wizarding World.

But the Potter Twins were something else. Since William Potter had defeated You-Know-Who as a baby, the Wizarding World’s eyes had been trained on the Potter Family. The parents had gained respect as they had been so honored by Magic that their first-born children were twins. That Lord and Lady Potter had refused to tell the rest of the Wizarding World which twin was oldest also increased the intrigue. And _everyone_ knew that since William Potter had killed You-Know-Who, Harry Potter had the magical power to do the same. They were twins after all. _And that is why it’s so interesting to see Harry Potter sitting at the Hufflepuff Table than any of the other—more talented ones._ But it seemed that the Hufflepuff twin seemed to be even more mysterious than before. After all, everyone said that Hufflepuffs were complete dunderheads—such poor wizards and witches, who couldn’t tell one end of their wand from the other. Neville shivered. His family had told him that he would bring shame on the Longbottom Family if he were to be Sorted in Hufflepuff. He had been so worried, but luckily the Sorting Hat seemed to finally agree that he had _something_ that would make him do well in Gryffindor. He couldn’t see what it was, but he didn’t say anything, too thankful for miraculously ending up in the House of the Brave and Noble—the House his parents were in. He shrugged off his thoughts on how his Family would have sneered at him for ending up in Hufflepuff.

Looking towards the Ravenclaw Table, be noticed that the frizzy brown-haired girl was already awake and happily talking with the same boy she was sitting next to last night. Just then, she looked up, and seeing him, waved like crazy. The students sitting around her looked at her as if she had gone mad, and Neville flushed dark red. Slowly, he waved back, looking around him to see who was paying them any attention. The Gryffindor Table was mostly empty, with only the four Prefects and Head Girl sitting near the front discussing something. The Ravenclaw Table was half full with most of the students laughing loudly and cheerfully. _Bloody early birds,_ Neville thought. The Hufflepuffs were mostly absent, with a few small groups sitting in the middle with Harry Potter in their midst. Harry Potter seemed to be enjoying himself, and for a split second, Neville envied him. _Even in the House of Fools, Potter still looks happier than me_.

Neville looked towards the front of the Great Hall, where the Professors sat. Right now, the only Professors currently in the Hall were McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick—the Heads of the Houses. Dumbledore’s seat was empty—the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen. But that was hardly a strange thing—Dumbledore had many other responsibilities and was probably attending to them. He glanced nervously at the Slytherin Table, where older students sat, spread out in small groups. The older girls were all loudly discussing _Witch Weekly_ magazine, while a small group near the end closest to the Head Table, seemed to have out multiple copies of _Quidditch Though the Ages_ , and were whispering furiously, glancing around the Great Hall every so often. _They’re probably the Slytherin Quidditch team,_ Neville mused to himself. He frowned, as he saw the center of the Slytheirn table was empty, almost… _ominously_. Neville shivered; as he was about to look away, he noticed an older Slytherin boy—who looked like he was fifteen or sixteen—looking directly at him. The boy’s eyebrow was quirked upward, in a mild questioning stance, and Neville blushed, looking down at his half-eaten plate.

Sighing, he decided to go back to the Common Room, as it seemed like most of his Housemates were still asleep, clearly taking advantage of the last free day before classes started. He got up from his seat, and grabbing Trevor—who looked ready to wander away, he made his way to the entranceway of the Great Hall. Just as he was about to turn towards the Grand Staircase, he heard someone calling his name. He turned around, wondering who could be calling out to _him_ of all people, and saw that it was the Ravenclaw girl from the train. As soon as he had turned, the girl started talking.

“Hi Neville, how are you? How has Gryffindor been so far? I saw you in the Great Hall, and since we have a free day before classes start, do you want to check all of our classrooms and schedules with us?” She said this all very quickly, in one breath.

Neville stood there. “W-what?”

A boy—and where did he come from?—stood next to Hermione and said, “Clearly he doesn’t want to come. We can just find the rooms ourselves, Hermione.”

The girl—Hermione—said, “Wait, he hasn’t even answered yet, Terry.”

The boy—Terry—glared at him, clearly wanting him to refuse. Neville opened his mouth to stutter that he had other plans, but with a glance towards Hermione’s earnest face, changed his mind, and said, “N-no, I don’t have anything else, so I can come.” The last part came out as a question but Hermione didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Wonderful! Neville this is Terry Boot, my fellow Ravenclaw Yearmate and friend, and Terry this is Neville Longbottom—I met him on the train.”

Boot looked at him disdainfully, but held out a hand, muttering, “It’s nice to meet you Longbotom.”

“Same here.” Neville replied as he shook the hand, thanking the fact that he hadn’t stuttered.

Hermione beamed, as if this was the start of a beautiful new friendship. Judging by Boot’s expression, Neville thought that she was being overly optimistic.

**Hufflepuff Table, Hogwarts Great Hall**

Harry Potter was tired. He was tired of being stared at like an animal at a zoo. He wanted some time to himself to _think_. Ever since the Sorting Ceremony last night, he felt like he was in shock. _Hufflepuff_. He thought to himself. _How am I a Hufflepuff? Everyone thought I would be a Slytherin._ I _thought I would be a Slytherin._ He couldn’ t understand it. The Sorting Hat had spoken to him. He had put the Hat on and thought _please Slytherin_ , and the hat had questioned him. It had told him that he had Slytherin qualities, but what he sought could only be found with the help of _Hufflepuffs_.

Harry huffed, _honestly, what would a Hufflepuff know about ambition? About cunning? Hufflepuffs were all…fluffy._ Harry realized he was being mean, but he couldn’t bring himself to take back the thought. _If Hufflepuffs were what I needed, why did they seem to be the complete opposite?_ But nope, the Sorting Hat had made its decision, and it would not be swayed. After calling out Hufflepuff in front of the rest of the school (his brother, the other students, and his professors), it had dared to give him _advice!_ A hat giving advice, honestly! He had no idea what the hat meant either. It had told him: _“And do you not think a badger to be just as ferocious as a snake or lion? Just as dangerous? Just as clever?”_ He didn’t know much about badgers, he had only bothered looking up the characteristics of Slytherin and Gryffindor (his first two choices).

He knew from his parents that Gryffindors were brave and bold. Chivalrous was a word his father had used. Gryffindors were lions, just as brave, as fearless. Slytherins, according to his mother, were misunderstood by mostly everyone. Sirius had said that every Slytherin was a slimy one, but his mother had said: “And was every Gryffindor good and pure?” Sirius had turned white and hadn’t responded. His mother had turned to him and had gently said that one of the most helpful students she had ever known in her years at Hogwarts was a Slytherin. His father had looked askance, stating, “ Lily, you can’t be talking about _him!_ After what he’d done!” But his mother had just looked back evenly and said, “So if Harry is sorted in Slytherin, you will think him to be _dark?_ To be—like them?” Harry’s father had looked at Harry then, as if seeing him for the first time. Harry didn’t know what was going on, he thought, _If Slytherin is a bad House, I won’t end up there._ But then his father’s gaze had softened and he had answered, “No…Harry is my son—our son. If he ends up in Slytherin, I will support him every step of the way.” And Harry’s mother had beamed. Since then, Harry’s family—even Sirius—was supportive of Harry’s desire to be a Slytherin.

_I was so confident that I would end up a snake. I thought that it was so obvious that I let it slip to some of the students on the boat ride here. I thought that if for some reason I_ didn’t _end up in Slytherin, I would still be put in Gryffindor with William. Instead I’m in_ Hufflepuff. _What would he tell his parents? Sirius? While everyone couldn’t agree on the other three Houses and their student’s characteristics,_ everyone _did agree on one thing: it was better to leave Hogwarts then end up in Hufflepuff._ Harry felt sick. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t stay in Hufflepuff, he just _couldn’t_.

He glanced over at the Slytherin Table, the students there seemed to be divided into smaller groups of friends. They looked like they were having fun. Harry felt envious. The Slytherin Prefect abruptly turned his head, and looked at him. Harry smiled at him, trying to seem friendly. But the older boy raised an eyebrow at him. Then he looked lingeringly at Harry’s house badge on his robes and smirked. It was a mean smirk, cold and disdainful. Harry felt furious and betrayed. He stared back hatefully at the dark-haired boy, not lowering his gaze. The other boy, however, seemed to be done. He turned his head back towards the other Slytherins who had been watching the exchange and said something. They all laughed. The prefect never looked back at Harry. Harry abruptly turned his head away, feeling hurt and humiliated. No one had ever acted like that towards him. Even in the muggle world, most of the other children had liked him. And the ones who didn’t—well, they didn’t act like _that_. He had just been _laughed_ at, and it was because of the color of his robes. _This wasn’t supposed to happen_ , he thought desperately. _I was supposed to be a Slytherin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to edit and post--I was busy with midterms and I wanted a chance to look over the chapter before posting it. Let me know what y'all think!

**Author's Note:**

> (1) According to Pottermore, Nobby Leach was the Minister of Magic at this time period.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I believe that Dumbledore probably tried keeping track of Voldemort even after he left Hogwarts. Dumbledore most likely found out about some of the rumors of a “Dark Lord” (as evidenced in canon by how he knew about the name Voldemort during the DADA job interview), but as Grindelwald was defeated in 1945, the Ministry of Magic probably didn’t want to believe Dumbledore about another Dark Lord rising so soon (about 10 years later) after the defeat of who at that time was considered to be the worst Dark Lord ever (similar to how in canon, after Voldemort came back in Harry’s 4th year, Fudge and the Ministry didn’t want to believe that they had to deal with Voldemort again (after a little more than a decade) and so they attempted to discredit Dumbledore and Harry in hopes of convincing the public that everything was fine).
> 
>  
> 
> In this fic, Leach tried doing the same thing, by attempting to discredit Dumbledore as someone seeing Dark Lords everywhere and a fame and attention-seeking liar who wanted more glory than what he got from Grindelwald’s defeat. As Dumbledore didn’t have any unquestionable proof of Voldemort being a Dark Lord at that time (especially since Voldemort disappeared for many years after leaving his job at Borgin and Burkes), he couldn’t convince the Ministry to adequately prepare to fight against Voldemort, and thus when the First Wizarding War did break out, the Wizarding World was easily susceptible to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
> 
>  
> 
> (2) Its been stated in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore did not believe in Divination, and that he was strongly considering taking the class out of the curriculum all together, before he heard the Prophecy.
> 
>  
> 
> (3) I feel like Aberforth still holds resentment for Albus, and I wanted to explore how he would have reacted to the Prophecy instead of Albus, and what that may change for the characters. In canon, Dumbledore always holds all the cards. It gets to the point where he uses his own death as a strategy for the war. In this fic, I want to see how he reacts to many diferent uncertainties. Having two twin brothers, both born on separate days is one such “uncertainty.” The second Prophecy will be used to illustrate how Dumbledore will believe himself to hold the most knowledge on how to defeat Voldemort, not realizing that what he sees is only half the story, and the other half is with his brother Aberforth, and how this division of knowledge, and therefore power, will ultimately affect things.
> 
>  
> 
> I don’t particularly like the second prophecy I made; it feels too forced, but I’m tired of rewriting it, so this is it, unless I think of something better later on (unlikely). Yes this is going to be one of those cliché Twin-Who-Lived stories with a second prophecy and everything, but I really wanted to write my own version of this so..yeah! Don't like, don't read--otherwise, hope you liked it!


End file.
